Symbols I am The Rage Martina McGowan

Hair as a Symbol of Identity and Resistance in I Am The Rage

Literal Context of Hair in the Collection

In Martina McGowan’s I Am the Rage, hair appears as a tangible, intimate object—cornrows, ringlets, Afros, braids, locks, and extensions. The most sustained treatment occurs in Chapter 15, “How Could We Not Have Appreciated That,” where the Speaker/Poetic Persona recalls nightly rituals: sitting between her mother’s knees while her “nappy” hair is corralled into neat cornrows, the sting of Glover’s Mange ointment, the Sunday-morning curl of a curling iron. Hair here is not abstract; it is the physical substance that gets washed, greased, combed, and styled. Elsewhere, in “In My Rearview Mirror” (Chapter 9), the speaker’s dreadlocks are cited as part of the “profile” that makes her fear police encounters. These concrete references anchor the symbol in everyday Black life.

Where Hair Recurs

Hair appears in at least two distinct chapters:

  • Chapter 15 – The entire poem is a chronological memoir of hair care: childhood cornrows, preteen ringlets, adult Afros with cake cutters and a blond streak, and contemporary braids or locks. Each phase marks a stage in the speaker’s relationship with her own appearance.
  • Chapter 9 – The speaker’s dreadlocks are mentioned as a visual cue that triggers her awareness of “fitting the proverbial profile” during a traffic stop. Here, hair moves from personal grooming to a social signifier that puts her at risk.
  • Indirectly, the theme of self-loathing versus self-love (present in Chapter 1, “I Am the Rage,” and the refrain “Struggling to love myself / A thing You have taught me to loathe”) connects to hair as a site of that struggle, even when the word “hair” is not explicitly used.

How the Meaning of Hair Changes

Across the collection, hair undergoes a transformation from a source of pain and judgment to a crown of individuality and resistance.

Stage Meaning Evidence from Chapter 15
Childhood cornrows Discomfort, mother’s control, internalized shame “Ruthlessly corralled my ‘nappy’ and unmanageable hair”; “How could we have judged ourselves so harshly”
Preteen ringlets Conformity to Eurocentric beauty, effort to be acceptable “Desire to have ‘big girl’ hair”; ringlets that “would barely last through church”
Adult Afro Political reclamation, natural beauty “Cake cutters and Afro Combs / Adorned the largest crown”; “Beautiful in its message”
Later styles (braids, locks, extensions) Individuality, choice, defiance “We may wear our crowns of hair … in any manner we choose”
Dreadlocks in traffic stop Suspect marker, source of fear “I know what I look like … Dreadlocks” (Chapter 9)

The shift is from hair as something to be tamed or hidden (to avoid punishment or to gain approval) to hair as something to be celebrated and chosen freely. The final lines of Chapter 15 reframe every past judgment: “How could we not have appreciated the beauty and the art of all that we are.” Hair becomes a metonym for the whole Black female body and its worth.

Connections to Characters and Themes

Characters

  • The Speaker/Poetic Persona – Her journey from self-criticism to self-celebration is embodied in the hair narrative. The speaker is both the child who suffered the hot comb and the adult who wears an Afro with a blond streak.
  • The Black Mother/Parent – In Chapter 15, the mother appears as the one who braids and curls, passing down both pain and love. In Chapter 16, “Why We Beat Our Children,” the mother’s discipline is linked to survival; hair care is a parallel act of preparing a child for a hostile world. The mother’s hands are the instruments of both grooming and punishment.
  • The Rage Collective Voice – The collective “we” in Chapter 15 speaks for generations of Black women who have transformed their hair despite enduring hardship. The refrain “How could we not have appreciated” unites individual memory with communal experience.
  • The Oppressor Addressed as “You” – Though not directly present in the hair chapter, the “You” of Chapter 1 who taught the speaker to loathe herself is implicated in the internalized standards that made the speaker judge her hair as “nappy” or unmanageable.

Themes

  • Systemic Racism and Police Violence – Chapter 9 directly connects dreadlocks to racial profiling. Hair is part of the visual evidence that makes the speaker “fit the profile,” leading to terror during traffic stops. This theme is explored further in the systemic racism and police violence page.
  • Black Rage and Resilience – The act of reclaiming one’s hair—wearing an Afro, adding a blond streak—is itself an act of resilience against a world that demands conformity. The speaker’s rage in Chapter 1 is partly born from being taught to hate her own hair, and the reclamation is a quiet victory. See Black rage and resilience.
  • Parental Fear and Protection – The mother’s fierce grooming in Chapter 15 mirrors the desperate discipline in Chapter 16. Both are attempts to protect the child from a society that punishes Black bodies. The parental fear and protection theme ties these chapters together.
  • Historical Memory and Collective Trauma – The hair rituals are part of a lineage: “Nightly nestled between my mother’s knees” echoes centuries of Black women caring for hair under oppression. The memory is both personal and historical. Explore historical memory and collective trauma.

Four Study Questions with Answers

1. How does the poem “How Could We Not Have Appreciated That” use hair to challenge Eurocentric beauty standards?

The poem traces a progression from the speaker’s childhood desire for “big girl hair” (straight, ringleted) to her adult embrace of Afros, locks, and other natural styles. By naming products like Bergamot and Glover’s Mange and describing the pain of the curling iron, the poem exposes the labor and violence Black women have undergone to conform. The refrain “How could we not have appreciated the beauty and the art” reverses the judgment: the natural hair that was once deemed “nappy” is reframed as beautiful, magical, and artful. The speaker explicitly asserts that Black women may wear their hair “in any manner we choose,” rejecting any single standard.

2. What role does the mother play in the speaker’s relationship with her hair?

The mother is both the agent of grooming and the source of love. She is physically close—“Nightly nestled between my mother’s knees”—and her actions are described as “ruthless” but also careful. She applies ointments to make hair grow and uses the curling iron to create ringlets for church. The mother passes down not only hairstyles but also a set of social expectations. In the poem’s arc, the speaker later rebels against her mother’s dismay when she goes “back to ‘nappy’ hair,” yet the final refrain includes the mother’s efforts as part of the beauty they should have appreciated. The mother represents both the pressure to conform and the enduring bond of care.

3. In what ways does hair function as a symbol of both vulnerability and resistance in I Am the Rage?

Hair is vulnerable because it makes the speaker a target. In Chapter 9, her dreadlocks contribute to her fear during a traffic stop; she knows she “fit[s] the proverbial profile.” Hair also carries the memory of pain—the burnt knuckles, the judgment. Yet hair becomes a symbol of resistance as the speaker reclaims it. The Afro is “beautiful in its message,” and the blond streak “individualized to sing each soul’s song.” The final stanza declares that hair sends “a message . . . that we are indeed individuals.” This duality mirrors the larger collection’s tension between the pain of living under racism and the persistent assertion of worth.

4. How does the hair motif connect to the broader theme of self-love in the opening poem, “I Am the Rage”?

The opening poem includes the line “Struggling to love myself / A thing You have taught me to loathe.” Hair is one of the most intimate sites where that self-loathing is taught and then unlearned. Chapter 15 is the full answer to “I Am the Rage”: after cataloguing the ways Black bodies are devalued—chains, police brutality, dismissed lives—the hair poem offers a counter-narrative of appreciation and joy. The collective voice that begins with rage and a “muted prayer” ends the collection’s arc (though not chronologically) with “How could we not have appreciated the beauty and the art of all that we are.” Hair becomes the proof that self-love is possible even in the face of oppression.

Conclusion

In I Am the Rage, hair is never merely decorative. It is a diary of pain, a canvas for resistance, and a legacy of mother-daughter bonds. Through the concrete details of cornrows, ointments, curling irons, and Afros, McGowan shows how Black women have navigated a world that weaponizes their appearance. The symbol culminates in a defiant affirmation: “We may wear our crowns of hair … in any manner we choose.” This message resonates with every character in the book—from the speaker to the Black mother to the collective “we” of the Rage—and anchors the central themes of identity, resistance, and resilience.